Simple Math
by KoryandrStar
Summary: Tie-in fic to 'Shooting Star'. Blaine's thoughts during, after, and Kurt's reaction. One-Shot TW: minor thoughts of suicide.


**Simple Math**

* * *

**It's 36 seconds** into the incident before Blaine fully comprehends what's happening. His first reactions were simple instinct. _Protect. Help._

Kurt always said he had a mother's instincts.

On these instincts, he had wheeled Artie over and helped the terrified boy onto the floor. After, he had secured them a safe spot.

So now, as he's curled up by the piano, phone shaking in his hand, he knows what's happening. And then the thoughts come. He'd only had these once before in his life. 14 years old. Saddie Hawkins. They circulate between goodbyes and regrets, to fond memories and flashbacks. His parents. Now, they've never had the closest relationship, what with them gone most of the time, and the whole semi-homophobia his father is too proud to admit he has; he still thinks of them first.

His mom. _Mommy_. she was always the one that would curl up and watch Whinny the Pooh with him when he couldn't sleep. She'd give him a spoon full of honey to make his tummy feel better, and when he really was sick, she was the one that would lay down with him and rub his tummy and sing until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Her soft soprano would comfort him like nothing else. She was the most beautiful thing, well woman, in the world to him. Her golden eyes and the soft curl of her chestnut hair. Her features, her hair, everything about her just screamed one word to him. _Home_.

Next, was his father. Now, true, his father and him didn't get along at times. He knew his dad tried, but he couldn't fight the homophobia driven into his bones completely. Grandpa, _may he rest in peace_, had always been one to complain about "those faggots".

But, despite his upbringing. Dad tried hard to relate to him. He knew that the car was a peace offering to Blaine, he knew that his dad didn't hate him. But he just didn't understand. He couldn't understand why Blaine found other boys attractive instead of girls, he couldn't wrap his mind around it, and the car had been a conduit to try. They had many conversations over the engine: "_how? Isn't it weird? Why?"_

These were questions that his dad should have been answering for him, but instead he had to comfort his father and find solace in Google.

After his parents, other thoughts trickled in: Wes, David and Thad, Jeff and Nick, Rachel and the other glee clubbers, his Auntie B, Cooper, Margaret Thatcher, Sam. But finally, they came full circle to the one thing he didn't want to think about. Kurt.

Kurt. The boy that said he loved him, _made love to him_, but still couldn't forgive him. Would he forgive him before they buried his body? Could he find it in his heart to forgive the dead boy that broke his? Would he bring Adam to the funeral? With everyone else he could only picture memories, but with Kurt, instead of the memory of them making out on this very piano, all he could think about was his regret. Eli was a mistake, the worse one of his life, and, while Blaine's forgiven himself, he doesn't blame Kurt for not forgiving him.

The look on Kurt's face would forever be etched into the darkest parts of his mind, only rising to the surface when _those_ thoughts came around. The thoughts that had him curled up with Margaret Thatcher, crying into a pillow as Christian and Satine sang the final version of _Come What May_. The thoughts would lead him to the bathroom, where he knew his razor blades were kept, knew so many ways to make the pain go away...but he wouldn't...couldn't do that.

Blaine was shaken from his trance as the choir room lights turned on and everyone rose. He looked down to see his phone vibrating in his hand. "Mommy" written across the screen. On instinct he picked it him, but once he heard the muffled sob on the other end, he felt his resolve dissipate, the tears flowing down his cheeks. "Hi mommy." He finally said for the both of them.

"Oh baby." His mom sobbed into the phone. "Daddy and I are on a flight home now. Can you stay somewhere until we get into town?"

"Mommy I don't-"

"The Hummels. I know you and Kurt but-" his mother's voice cracked and he suspected she turned from the receiver to sob. The other line rustled before another voice came on.

"Blaine?" The bass voice asked, higher pitched than usual. He had been crying.

"Yea daddy?" Blaine choked out as the others sat in a strange silence.

"Please go home with Burt. We know they're like a second family to you and..."

"Okay daddy." Blaine answered, the resolve stitching itself back across his heart. He was okay. It was going to be fine.

"And Blaine..."

"Yes?"

"We love you so much, son."

"I love you too, Daddy"

As soon as he hung up, Sam came and wrapped him in a tight hug. Blaine returned the hug. Clinging to the only other person, besides Tina, that seemed to care. They didn't speak, just clung to one another. That soon transitioned into a group hug, which dissipated into everyone trickling out to find their parents.

**36 minutes later** found Blaine sitting in one of the choir room chairs. He had came back to get his bag, or so he told Tina, but in actually he came back because he had nowhere else to go. Here, in this very spot in the room he agreed to meet Eli. Here's where he made the decision to ruin his life, hurt the only person he truly loves. Here's was the beginning of the end.

He doesn't know how long he sits there before a large hand landed on his shoulder. He couldn't fight the terror that shot through him, and he jumped, the ghost of a scream on his lips. Had he screamed? Or did he imagine that? The hand withdrew itself as Blaine looked up towards its owner. Burt.

"Son?" His kind, scruffy voice lulled Blaine's mind into calm, slowing the beat of his heart, but tightening the grip on it.

"Burt..."

"Let's go home, Blaine."

And so he let Burt drag him out to the pick-up, let him fasten his seat belt, let him drag him out of the truck and into the house. He let Burt stare at him as he clutched his bag to his chest, not watching the TV Burt had turned on to fill the silence.

"Blaine, I'm going to call-"

"No!" Blaine finally felt a reason to move, and shot over, grabbing the old man's hands where his phone was weakly clutched.

"He um..." Blaine started, sinking onto the couch beside the man, bag forgotten on the floor in his haste to stop him. "Just...please. I don't want him to know." He looked at the man, his second father, and saw the pity in his eyes. He **hated** pity.

Diverting his gaze, Blaine loosened his grip on Burt's hands, letting him deposit the phone back into his lap.

"Okay."

**36 hours later** found Blaine lying on his bed, laptop lay open in front of him. Skype was open, and Kurt's icon was green, but, unlike he had promised Burt, Blaine couldn't tell Kurt. He couldn't stand to see that pity in Kurt's eyes, couldn't stand the rejection that might happen every time he talks to Kurt. His heart was too fragile. He couldn't' take it anymore.

Mom and Dad had to leave again. And that was okay. They were needed elsewhere. Blaine would be fine. He'd be fine.

He stared at the green light until his eyelids felt a little too heavy. Kurt was busy, and he was sleepy. He probably wouldn't pick up anyway.

**3 days and 6 hours later**, Blaine sat in that seat. The one he had sat in after the shooting. Glee club was going on around them fine, well as fine as any of them could be after that ordeal. Sam was going through some sort of multiple-personality disorder to cope with it, and everyone was just...lethargic. None of them could really find the energy to do much aside from sit there and let Mr. Schue rant about Sectionals, or Regionals. Blaine couldn't remember. But did it really matter?

* * *

**It's 15 days later **that Kurt finds out. Who does he find out from? Tina. She hadn't been sending him the daily pictures of Blaine's ass. Once he got the cheerio uniform, Tina had made it her mission to make him the most sexually frustrated ex on the planet. After the wedding he had had a heart to heart with her, only calling her a hag once or twice, and now it seemed she was going to try her hardest to get them back together.

It's been about two weeks since he's gotten a daily picture from her, and the accompanying texts about every time Blaine bends over and just how good he looks. He's a little worried. So, one morning, as he's trying to not look at his vintage flea-market chair, he pulls his phone out and shoots her a text.

_-No more pictures of B's ass? Disappointed in your hagdom Tina. _

It's a while before she replies, and by a while, he's in his last class of the day when he finally feels the vibration coming from his knee-high's. He waits for the professor to sit down, because, while history of musical theater is boring as hell (and he already knows half the criteria), the prof is a total whore about phones in class.

Luckily, it's the last class he has before spring break, so there' a plus. Two weeks away from this musical hell hole. Sure, he loves NYADA, but it's just like high school with more Rachel's. So on his way home, while stopping for a non-fat mocha, he pulls the phone out and chokes a little at what he sees.

**-Sorry Babe, been a little out of it since the incident a couple weeks ago. **

**-Also, I'M NOT A HAG**

He snorts at the last text, then, after paying the barista and taking his coffee, contemplates the first text. "The incident" sounded like something horrible, but knowing Tina it's probably nothing.

_-What incident? Did Marley pass out again._

It was 45 minutes later, as he was finally arriving at the Buschwick apartment that Tina texts back.

**-You really haven't heard? I figured Blaine would be on the phone with you right away.**

_-Heard what?_

Now Kurt felt his heart beating a little faster. What had happened? Did...no. Kurt refused to let his mind wander with possibilities. If it was something big, Santana would have heard about it, surely. She's down there all the time, even made friends with that Marley girl. But...Santana's been with her mom for the past week. Something about a dog.

When the phone vibrated against the counter, Kurt, with panic in his heart, turned and opened the message from Tina.

**-Kurt there was a shooting at school a couple weeks ago.**

**It takes less than 1.5 seconds **for his phone to clatter to the ground.

**It takes about 1.5 hours **before he's on his way to the airport, leaving for Lima.

**It takes about 15 hours **to climb into the ever-comfortable comforter of his old bedroom. The Buschwick apartment is great, but the mattress is a bed of spikes compared to this masterpiece. He knew only a few things. Nobody knew he was in town, because arriving at 4 in the morning kind of held back the welcoming party, aside from a very sleepy Carole getting off the late shift. Even Kurt needed ride home from the airport.

Lying in bed, the jet lag catching up to him, Kurt devises a plan to go see Blaine. Well...plan is too generous for this fiasco he has in mind. And only one thing is on his mind. _Find Blaine_. He'd crash overnight, then storm up to Blaine at school, maybe during Glee club and demand an explanation.

Kurt wakes up later than he planned to. Late as in 1:55 in the afternoon late. And Kurt's pissed. It takes at least an hour and half to get dressed and out the door and Kurt is afraid Blaine would leave school before he'd get to see him. Once at the school, Kurt's heart soars. And not in a good way.

After going through the metal detector, he says that he's here to help Mr. Schue with a project and they let him in, after putting a tacky visitor tag on his shirt. Based on the clock, and his internal school schedule that is still etched in his brain, Kurt deduces that Blaine's in the choir room. He tries walking, but soon enough he finds himself running, heart pounding. God, so much had changed, yet it was all so familiar.

He thinks it was the familiarity that did it for him, had him running for the choir room. But it was probably the anxiousness, the panic of finally seeing the love of his life after so many months apart. Sure they had skyped a few times since the wedding, but they were both so busy..._The same thing that happened the first time._

He's running, his heart pounding in his chest, when he sees the entrance to the choir room. So close. It's almost an ache in his chest, or a string pulling him, but he knows Blaine is in there. He has to be. Coming to a halt before the door, he settles the ache in his chest and straightens his hair and clothes.

* * *

**36 minutes** into **the hour and a half** long period and Blaine already feels his mind slipping. He can't focus. Can't do anything but push the thoughts way. The bad ones.

After a few minutes, a gasp is heard in the room, but Blaine can't draw his eyes away from that little cluster of specks on the linoleum. After a minute, Sam is shaking his arm and Blaine snaps back to reality. That's when he feels it. The ache in his chest, the pull. With a start his eyes snap towards the door.

He's here.

Kurt, clothes a little disheveled, is standing in the doorway of the choir room. Blaine can't take his eyes off of him. He vaguely recognizes Mr. Schue saying something to Kurt, but neither he or Kurt can pull away. It's almost like Magnets.

Finally, Blaine looks into Kurt's eyes, his face, and sees...well not what he expected. He expected the pity, the anger, but not this. Not...pain. Kurt's face is wretched up in pain and ache, and before he knows it, Blaine is launching himself at Kurt, trying to ease his worries. Kurt responds the same, running forward and catching Blaine steadily in his arms. One arm wrapped around his shoulder, the other around his waist, both clutching at the tight fabric of the uniform.

God. It was real. He was in his arms. Tangible.

"Baby," Blaine hears Kurt whisper into his ear and the casing around his heart shatters. With just that one word, Blaine feels himself break down into the shoulder of Kurt. He knows he's getting tear stains of Kurt's fancy shirt, but he can't bring himself to feel bad when it feels so good. Kurt's hand is brushing through his hair, loosening the gel there. Blaine knows he's going to have to fix his hair later, but it's okay. Because Kurt's here.

A loose sob escapes his mouth and he clutches tighter, the fabric bunching beneath his hands. Blaine wants to stop crying, but he can't help the flood of emotions coursing through his veins at the moment.

"I was so scared." Blaine heard his shaking voice whisper to Kurt.

"I know Baby, it's okay now."

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so I might've written this at midnight to fight off my ACT stress, so, pitty me? Also, The number's aren't just any numbers guys.

R&R If you like'd it, or just have some critiques. Like the writing style? The POV?


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